


Fire and Ice

by oly_chic



Series: Quiet AU [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Changing personalities, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, War, implied interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: How the war affected Prowl to become the ice-cold tactician, and how the war affected the twins to become red-hot warriors.





	1. Prowl, Beginnings (Chapter 1)

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Transformers.
> 
> For those who haven’t read this AU, Prowl is the twins’ creation and was raise kinda fluffy. Not “I want to give you lots of hugs” fluffy, but he's softer than the Prowl we all know. See “Quiet Time Drinking Games” (QTDG)
> 
> Jazz is covered in this fic too, but it’s mostly focused on the trio family. Jazz was Prowl’s sparklinghood best friend, but (spoiler alert for “Quiet Reflections” and QTDG) they drifted apart late into their mechling vorns. They met again in “Quiet Reflections.”
> 
> I was going to name all the fics something with the word “Quiet” to go with the AU name I’ve (currently) landed on, but it didn’t make enough sense for this fic so I abandoned the idea.

After Prowl joined the Autobot tactical ranks he started coming across Jazz at random intervals. They didn’t work together until after Prowl’s first promotion, which included Spec Ops assistance. Their first planning session proved disastrous.

Jazz exclaimed, “Spec Ops is used to working with odds lower than your comfort zone!”

“Sixty-eight percent is too low to send you and a team on a mission, no matter my comfort zone,” Prowl denied.

“You said the odds don’t get any higher to your immediate knowledge, and this mission is too important to scrap over your discomfort.”

“I’m not suggesting we scrap this mission but we consider changing the variables.”

“Does that mean changing my team members?”

Prowl paused for a half-klik. “Perhaps.”

“Oh no you didn’t just suggest my team selection isn’t right for the job,” Jazz snapped. “You don’t know what war is like. You haven’t seen it.”

That was true and Prowl wasn’t sure if that was fortunate or not. Mostly he worked small details that someone oversaw, and this wasn’t a big leap. “I don’t have to see war to know what bad odds mean.”

Their conversation derailed for a little bit until Prowl managed to steer them back to the topic. Eventually Jazz convinced him that 68% was worth the risk, but Prowl didn’t like it. When Jazz came back bloodied and broken Prowl swore that he’d never settle for 68% again.

That didn’t changed when he first saw battle, when it came to him. Jazz was off on assignment (one with 81% percent success, Prowl’s minimum threshold barely passed), and Prowl was alone. It was possibly the most terrifying experience in his life, trying to assist the commanding tactical officers by feeding them data while hiding behind cover on the battle field. As his commanders gave him orders, he calculated their odds of success. Most came back below 60% and he couldn’t fathom how decisions like that were made, until he grasped the chaos of battle.

The odds slowly improved and they held their line until the Decepticons retreated, but not without numerous bodies falling around Prowl, some still alive and howling in pain. He watched medics work on those who stood a chance to survive, or putting an “X” on the forehelms of those who didn’t stand a chance. Prowl tried to comfort those with the Xs but he found himself unable to do so without shedding tears, knowing their fate when sometimes they didn’t. He barely made it back to his quarters in time to purge his tanks. The burning smell of the deactivated tortured his nose, and the screams of the condemned deafened his audios.

Jazz came to him after clearing medical from his assignment, Prowl hidden away in his cubical of the damaged building. “Let’s get energon,” the saboteur said. He didn’t wait, dragging Prowl out and to the mess hall. “How are you?” he asked.

“I am alright,” Prowl said carefully to not give away how that smell still plagued him. How the plans he had to follow with such low odds of success haunted him when they resulted in the casualties around him.

“No, you’re not. I can see it in your optics,” Jazz gently said. In the mess hall with hardened soldiers he didn’t dare friendly touches.

“I… I still can’t fathom how command gave orders with such low odds of success. How we lost a third of the soldiers because of those orders. How I can still smell those we lost; how I can still hear the dying’s cries.” Prowl’s optics were downcast.

Jazz nodded. “I wish I could say that’s a rare smell or sound but it’s not. It gets easier to handle.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“No it’s not.” Jazz knew there weren’t much words of comfort for what Prowl was finally experiencing. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. “Command was doing their best, I’m sure. Just like I’m sure you were doing your best.”

“How can they hold rank and have their best orders be low-odd maneuvers? If I had their rank, I’d do everything I could to make their odds better.”

“Making the odds better involve some major changes to one’s self. Like getting a tac-set installed. No one wants to do that.”

Prowl knew that tac-set installations had difficult aftermaths, but there were other options. Tac-set installation was the most extreme. Why couldn’t one mech in command have some sort of upgrade to improve their strategic planning? He vowed that orn to get an upgrade once he had the rank for it to matter.

Prowl’s next promotion had him moving bases. He said his goodbyes to Jazz, one of his very few on-base friends. They shook hands goodbye.

* * *

Prowl almost debarked off the train without thinking about it. A blue-green mech behind him stopped Prowl. “Whoa, friend, you aren’t about to leave without an umbrella and shoes? You need those here. That’s why the doors are so wide.” Umbrellas and shoes were used for acid rain conditions.

“I didn’t realize conditions here were rough.” No one had told him the weather conditions of his new base so he assumed they were the same.

The mech pulled shoes from his subspace. “Here, you can borrow these. I always keep a spare set for when the acid eats through the ones I’m wearing. My umbrella is just big enough to share, if you don’t mind getting in close.”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Switchlight.”

“Hello, Switchlight, and thank you for your considerations.”

They exited the train together, umbrella out at the last klik so that Prowl could see how badly the acid rain existed. He marveled and worried about living here, seeing it pour. Prowl wondered if he needed boots.

Switchlight said something similar. “Looks like a boots-orn. I have only one pair. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop by the overhang so I can switch?”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Prowl could feel the acid jumping up and hitting him in the calves. It was a good thing that he’d have to go through medical before being cleared to take up residency in the base. After Switchlight made his pedwear changes, they engaged in small talk. Prowl learned that Switchlight was also from Iacon and grew up one school district over.

Switchlight offered, “I’ll take you to medical. I don’t need to be cleared since I was on leave, and I’m not in a rush to get back to my quarters.”

“You’re a very kind mech.”

“I figure I ought to be, this war makes life difficult enough.” Switchlight smiled and Prowl was relieved. It looked like he might be making a friend, something he needed. Prowl was not a particularly social mech, but he still craved having something. He did have some of Sideswipe in him, after all.

In medical he was poked and prodded until the only conclusion was he was healthy, aside from the acid damage. They patched him up, handed him rain gear, and told him where the Paint department was located. Prowl made a quick stop, concerned about his appearance, him not totally unlike his creator Sunstreaker.

His first stop was his quarters to call his creators. He was already a few breems late for his check-in time. When Sideswipe’s and Sunstreaker’s faces came up on the video chat, Prowl tucked his helm. “Hello creators, I’m sorry I’m late.”

Sideswipe waved it off. “No worries, we figured medical held you up.”

“Medical and waiting on a mech to put on boots.”

“You made a friend?” Sideswipe asked hopefully.

“You need boots?” Sunstreaker gaped. “Don’t tell me it rains there.”

Prowl answered Sunstreaker first. “It does, and Switchlight tells me it rains frequently. Switchlight is the mech I met. He warned me of the rain, offered me shoes and to share his umbrella. I think classifying us as friends might be too early, but we certainly got along.”

Sideswipe nodded. “Still excited about the promotion? Did they tell you it was going to be all rain?”

“No they didn’t, but I think I’ll be alright. I have gear now, and they say I’ll be better able to hone my skills here. You know how important that is to me.”

The twins nodded quietly. They were aware how Prowl’s first battle hurt their creation’s spark and the pain of not being able to better increase the odds. “At least the rain should keep the Decepticons away.”

“I hope so, but this base does guard an energon mine. I will ask about the last three Decepticon attacks once I settle into my new position. How has being Autobots faired you since we last talked?”

Sunstreaker humpfed and Sideswiped grunted. “Still doing lots of drills and the ground is taking a pounding to the point we’re getting chips in our seams. Sunny buffs every night now.”

Prowl almost commented on how that wasn’t much of an increase. Instead he asked about the drills and the conversation continued until they exhausted everything happening. Prowl promised to call the next orn after he finished learning more about his new position.

The next orn Prowl lined up in the training center with the new troops, all 23 of them. A mech named Kup came out and chewed them out for coming from “soft” bases. “Here you’ll find life to be hard, not like your dreamy bases. Here there’s acid every other orn and Decepticons every other deca-orn. Here we work long shifts and gear-stripping drills preparing for the next attack. You may have noticed we have a larger-than-average medical center. If you’re a soldier, get used to waking up in it.”

Kup’s speech shocked Prowl. Decepticon attacks every other deca-orn? How could his transfer documents not mention that? And working long shifts? How was he supposed to make a friend or two? Suddenly his promotion looked like perhaps his old base wanted to get rid of him. Prowl melted inside. Hadn’t he been performing well, doing everything he could to make sure tactical odds for his part had a success rate of 80% or above? Depending on the personality of his commanding officer he would ask.

Kup dismissed the non-soldiers after another rousing speech of how grim their circumstances were out here, and Prowl learned he was one of two non-soldiers. He spoke to the red mech as they exited the training center, “Good morning. I’m Prowl.”

“I’m Perceptor. How are you? Are you also a scientist?”

“I’m as good as one can be after a speech like that.” Perceptor chuckled at Prowl’s dry comment. “I’m in tactical.”

“Perhaps we’ll see each other if my scientific discoveries or devices fit into your plans.”

“That would be good. I hope we can work together fast, if it’s true about the rate of Decepticon attacks.”

Perceptor frowned. “Yes, I hope he was over exaggerating.”

“Me too. I’m not used to planning tactical missions that fast.” It wasn’t that Prowl couldn’t do it, but his previous base was not one of the more active parts of the warfront and could take a little longer to make sure their plans were thorough. That was part of why he was so shocked at command’s decisions when they couldn’t take their time.

They conversed for only a breem more before they had to split to different halls, but Prowl thought there was a chance he’d found another friend. Perhaps he could have two friends with a little bit of work. Switchlight was a soldier, so he wasn’t sure how often they’d meet. The tactical-soldier relationship here sounded possibly different.

Prowl stood at attention just off the entry way, waiting for his superior, Cablejumper. Of the eight tactical mechs, five ignored him and three snickered. Prowl had an inkling that formality was not a big thing here, but none-the-less he stayed at attention.

Cablejumper, a plum-colored Autobot, found him shortly after the quiet laughter died down. “At ease, Prowl. We’re not that formal here. With Decepticon raid parties coming in so often, we don’t bother wasting time on non-combat-related protocols. Come into my office.”

Prowl obediently followed to the one office in the back. Cablejumper gave him the rundown of operations. “Here we work long joors to make sure we’re ready during the next ‘surprise’ Decepticon attack. I say ‘surprise’ loosely because the only surprise is what orn they happen, not the fact they happen.”

“Yes sir, I’m prepared to work long joors.”

“Good. You’ll be working on flank defense, and I’ll be overseeing all of your work. I oversee everyone’s work.”

“Sir? Are you the only commanding tactician here?” Prowl asked slowly.

“Everything runs through me. I know the Decepticon attack plans the best. I will be initially teaching you how to plan for them.”

At first Prowl was honored to be personally receiving attention from his commanding officer, but then he was uncertain. “Sir, if I may be allowed to ask a question?”

“Ask away. You’ll see soon that formalities like asking permission aren’t a thing here, outside of deviating from plans. I suggest you adjust fast.” Prowl noted that Cablejumper’s tone was borderline an order.

“I will work on that. I was wondering what was the reason behind sending me here? I’m not against being here, but my transfer documents didn’t describe this place very well.”

“Let me guess: nothing about weather or Decepticon activity? You aren’t the first to be blindsided by that, and you won’t be the last. We’re on the fringes of the warfront and as such we don’t get much attention, even with the energon mine. They sent you here because you showed interest in war tactics.”

Prowl would have refuted such a claim had it not been too late. At most he showed interest in improving war tactics, not partaking in them to such a degree. “Thank you for clarifying.”

“Gladly. Now I’ll have you meet your teammates.” Cablejumper took him around to meet each tactician, all showing the briefest interest in the introduction. Prowl wasn’t under the impression it was anything against him, but rather the disruption to their work. He hoped he wasn’t pulled too hard into this environment. He had always been a little bit of a workaholic, but this was borderline unhealthy, in his opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Is there any other cannon Autobots or Decepticons in tactical? I don’t know of any.~~  
>  I got help on this, thanks!


	2. Twins, Beginnings (Chapter 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. This is a kickoff chapter for the twins, just like the last one was for Prowl

When Sideswipe and Sunstreaker first reported to duty they weren't sure what to expect. Neither twin was much of a fighter, most of their skirmishes being schoolyard tussles and the occasional drunk brawl, back before they had Prowl. Soldier fighting was different than dealing with bullies and they initially struggled with the difference in attack maneuvers. Their civilian lives were focused on art, dealing, and having a healthy creation. Because of the war their creation was no longer so healthy, and their divided attention prevented them from fully focusing on their training while they were still in Iacon. Someone figured it out and they were shipped to another training facility.

They threw themselves into learning how to fight properly since they couldn't do more than video-chat once a deca-orn with their creation and off-base friends. Their first conversation with Prowl went differently than they thought. It seemed that being alone convinced Prowl to join the Autobots, much to the displeasure of the twins. They wanted their precious sparkling to find his roots back in city life but there was no convincing him.

After six deca-orns at the facility they were declared sufficient soldiers to be stationed at a real base. The base was quiet for about one deca-orn and then suddenly everything changed at an alarm's notice.

A soldier they graduated with cried, "The Decepticons are here!"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged worried looks. It was now that they would see if their training and extra joors counted for anything. They reported to their immediate command and were kicked out the door with the order to charge forward while staying in formation, near the rear. The battle was as vicious as they were taught and they scrambled to keep ahead of each blast and each enemy that'd passed through the proceeding lines (usually aerial drops). They didn't have time to realize their fear until the aftermath. Both of them managed to stay alive without serious injury. They realized they were surrounded by those who Fate didn't favor like them. Not that they felt entirely favored. They felt the energon of their enemies dripping from their hands, they smelled their overheated blaster's smoke, and Sideswipe tasted the spray of a comrade who exploded by him. The red mech fought the rising energon, doing everything he could to maintain a warrior's facade but eventually lost it back at the brig. That orn Sunstreaker cleaned until his paint nanites were only a few layers thick. He kept muttering about needing "a fresh start" as he applied the new paint.

They thought it wouldn't get any easier.

* * *

Sideswipe was playing cards in the Rec Room, waiting on Sunstreaker. His brother was in the community washracks again, washing and buffing after his latest bout with his newest sparring partner for anti-aerial combat. Soon it would be his turn, but not before he could get in a game or two once Sunstreaker was done. Well, if Sunstreaker finished at his usual time.

His twin came by a whole half-breem early. Sideswipe asked, "How was training?"

"Good," Sunstreaker grunted. "When are you up?"

"In a little under a joor, if my anti-aerial combat partner actually shows. If not, maybe I can borrow yours later."

"Whatever keeps you in fighting shape. No going to the Well early."

"I promise to annoy you forever," Sideswipe grinned. Sunstreaker shuttered his optics. "No battle has kept me away from you, and none will." He spoke of the eight battles they fought since coming to the base. Aside from the harshness of war that haunted them each time, they were lucky. In their position near the rear line they hadn't yet been injured beyond low-priority.

"Shut up and deal."

As it turned out, Sideswipe was the one who had to cancel on his partner. A low-level officer fetched them to bring them to a mid-rank officer. "At ease," Sandstorm commanded. The twins didn't know him well, only that others said his promotions had grown stagnant because he liked excitement a little too much for an officer.

Sideswipe relaxed much faster than Sunstreaker until he was slouching. "What's up?" he asked nonchalantly.

Sandstorm stared at him before brushing aside whatever thoughts he had on Sideswipe's lax behavior. "You've shown improvement in the last two battles."

"Yeah?" each twin said, their bodies tensing.

"We're moving you to the middle line."

For their credit the twins didn't exchange worried looks. They silently exchanged worried words. ~That's why more dangerous.~ Sideswipe said.

~We can't turn this down, can we?~

~Every argument I come up with ends with them countering with telling us to suck it up.~

Sandstorm clapped them each on the shoulder. "Cheer up, it means you also get higher priority in the training schedule. Sideswipe, I hear we forced you to cancel on your partner? We'll get you a new partner and you can go before dinner."

"... Thanks..."

The twins booked rooms with different Autobots, desperate to learn new moves and then teach them to each other. They fought every chance they could, being beaten out only by the frontliners. They hoped to never join those ranks, but they were in a "damned if they do, damned if they don't" scenario. To survive they had to get better, but getting better might make them frontliners.

After two mega-orns another battle landed near their doorstep. They rushed out faster, making sure they stayed with those they'd cultivated a sense of camaraderie (well, Sideswipe mostly and the occasion fan of Sunstreaker's old art).

The middle was far more chaotic than near the rear. There were more blaster shots and a few more Decepticons were able to break through the frontline. Now there was more aerial combat. Sideswipe wished he could do more than shoot at the aerial fighters and their passengers.

Sunstreaker ducked around a blow of someone who'd broken the line. Anyone who breaks the frontline would automatically be tough, but the higher powers counted on them being injured enough for the middle line to win a fight. Sunstreaker didn't feel like he had a chance, but he pushed that to the back of his mind.

His opponent, a silver-black mech, came back for another punch and Sunstreaker ducked that, too. He kicked his opponent in the ankle where the thinnest armor was in reach. The bloodied mech snarled in pain but Sunstreaker ignored it and took the chance to beat the Decepticon's abdomen with blows. The Decepticon flew backwards and Sunstreaker shot him in the forehelm without a second guess.

The battle felt longer and shorter at the same time, feeling like it never would end and yet keeping them more occupied than normal until the Decepticons retreated. While returning to his brother Sunstreaker came across the mech he'd executed. Sideswipe approached him. "You okay?"

Sunstreaker whisper. "I'll be okay. Shooting him in the forehelm was easier than I thought."

Sideswipe chewed his lip. "I know what you mean. I feel a little bit better than I usually do after battle." They realized they were starting to tune out the cries of the fallen.

That night Sunstreaker didn't buff as hard and Sideswipe didn't purge.


	3. Prowl, Beginnings (Chapter 2)

On Prowl's first orn planning he concluded that Cablejumper was a challenge to impress. Prowl reasoned a mech dealing with so many attacks would have to be. He focused on his task at his terminal until the tactician working for the rear line sat down next to him. "Good morning, Trailbreaker?" he tried not to sound like he was asking confirmation of the other's name.

Trailbreaker smiled. "I’d say so. Any orn we're not on the battlefield is a good orn, in my opinion. There's one or two here that disagree. Finding the job satisfactory?"

"I'm finding it interesting. It's too early to tell if it's satisfactory."

"I hear you. What are you working on?"

Prowl turned his terminal's screen. "Tactical movement if we execute Cablejumper's newest strategic plan. Do you mind looking over my progress so far?"

"Not at all." Trailbreaker hummed as he reviewed Prowl's suggested movements. "I think you'd be better off switching these two teams' locations," he said as he pointed to two teams on the left flank. "Their listed skill sets make it more plausible to have the first team on the outside."

"I see what you mean," Prowl agreed, a little embarrassed at the oversight.

"Don't worry about it. We were all new once. You're from a base that didn't see much war on your front doorstep, right?"

"Yes."

"It's different out here and you'll learn that fast. If you survive."

Prowl grimaced. "Since I'm planning both flanks, don't I sit in the back where I can see both flanks?"

"Ever heard of snipers?"

Prowl sat back. "Yes, I just thought they weren't part of attacks here since there are no sniper perches."

"We destroyed most of the natural perches so now they bring in sniper perches."

"Terrific," Prowl muttered.

"Stay by my side during your first battle," Trailbreaker suggested. "I have force fields and I’m sure Cablejumper will let me stay near your position as an exception to my normal location."

Prowl wanted to ask if he could stay by Trailbreaker forever. "Thank you, I will take you up on that offer."

"If you want, when we take our energon break you can take it with me and I can tell you more about battle from our POV."

"I would be grateful."

The energon break was enlightening for Prowl as he listened to the base’s motto on tactics. He wouldn't be down in battle like he was the one time he saw war. Yet. He learned they were looking for another tactician to take over one of the flanks, so the orn that tactician was ready was the orn Prowl would be down near the fight. At least this would give him time to know Switchlight better if he retained the right flank, Prowl reasoned.

After the energon break he was sent to the Science department to see about the latest developments in weapons. He made a beeline for Perceptor, who was near the door. “Good afternoon, Perceptor.”

Perceptor smiled. “Good afternoon, Prowl. What brings you here?”

“A status update on your team’s developments, as well as a report on a new developments.”

“I see. Let me take you to the commanding science officer.”

Prowl followed Perceptor. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. I must confess that I find the working theories here different than my last base.”

“Me as well. The joors are longer here, too.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Perceptor agreed.

They reached the commanding Science officer’s office. Perceptor bid farewell, “It was nice seeing you again. Perhaps one orn we can have energon together.”

“That would be good. I think they’ll be sending me down here the most often of all tactical personnel, so let’s plan around that.”

Perceptor nodded with a smile and left. Prowl entered the office, reading the name tag as “Wheeljack.”

“Hello, hello!” Wheeljack greeted him, his fins flashing merrily. Prowl tried not staring at the room. It was messy with design documents, parts, and the occasional fully-intact weapon. “What brings you here? You’re the new tactician, Prall, right?”

“It’s Prowl and I am.”

“Take a seat. I have lots to show you.”

“You’ve developed a lot more weapons since we last visited you?” Prowl asked.

“No, but since you’re new I need to give you the rundown on everything. You need to know everything at your disposal.”

“I see.” Prowl sat down, realizing his afternoon was shot. Between his tactical assignment and this, there was no way he was getting out before a joor until recharge time. He wasn’t sure if he’d have time to call his creators.

Wheeljack proved Prowl right, the way he prattled off about each weapon or toy ready for battle, as well as the ones close to being ready. It seemed Wheeljack hadn’t finalized his reports yet so Prowl took notes on Wheeljack’s spare datapad for the upcoming weapons. When Wheeljack finished the last one he looked around as if he’d forgotten he spent a good chunk of the afternoon talking about _everything_. “I guess I’m done,” he said sheepishly.

“Thank you for your time and educating me on your department’s developments. May I take whatever reports you finished and return to Cablejumper?”

“Yes, yes, here you are,” Wheeljack said as he dug around on his desk to find the datapad under several design documents. “Feel free to come back.”

“Thank you. Good orn, sir.”

Prowl returned to Cablejumper and handed him the reports as well as his notes. “It’s good you took notes. Wheeljack’s write-ups can be difficult to comprehend.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“How is your tactical assignment going?”

“I believe it’s going well. Do you want to go over my progress now?”

Cablejumper shook his helm. “Come get me when you think you’re a joor away from finishing.”

“Yes, sir.” Prowl returned to his assignment and worked well past his scheduled shift end. He brought Cablejumper to his desk when he estimated he was a joor away and spent a half-joor with Cablejumper teaching Prowl the finer points of localized battle in rain conditions. Prowl scrambled afterwards to finish what he could before it was time to call his creators.

A cube appeared on his desk. Prowl looked up to find Trailbreaker. The black mech chuckled. “I figure for your first deca-orn here you won’t be able to get your own evening rations.”

“Thank you.”

“Just a curtsey for the new guy. Don’t worry about it.”

When it was a joor until recharge, Prowl hustled to his empty shared quarters and brought up his creators on his screen. “Hello, creators.”

“Wow, it must be late there,” Sideswipe commented.

“It was a long shift, as I told you they warned us.”

Sunstreaker complained, “But you have to be recharging in less than a joor.”

“I know, so forgive me if I cut this short.”

“Have you at least had energon?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Yes. Another tactician brought me it.” The conversation continued about each of their orns, with Sideswipe complaining about the monotonous of drills again. Prowl signed off a couple of breems before he had to recharge.

* * *

After three orns Prowl found himself doing something he never expected to do: arguing with his commanding officer. His numbers showed that his current tactical plan only had a 74% chance of success and Cablejumper deemed that good enough to move on, unlike Prowl.

“Sir, I would like to spend time getting it up to 80%,” Prowl politely argued.

“You won’t get it up to 80% any time soon, if at all, and the longer you spend on it the more you fail your other duties.”

“I can do it,” Prowl insisted. “I can get it up to 80% and not delay working on my other duties.”

Cablejumper threw his hands up in the air. “Fine but when battle comes and I have to use one of the strategies you didn’t prepare for, let the soldiers’ deaths be a lesson that you have to accept lower success rates per plan to increase the odds of survival overall.”

His statement chilled Prowl to the spark, so Prowl privately swore he’d stay up past recharge. “I will do it.”

“Good luck.” Cablejumper left Prowl alone.

A half-joor before the soldier barracks was expected to go to recharge Prowl had a visitor. He was alone and wasn’t expecting anyone else.

“Hello?” he heard Swichtlight call out.

Prowl turned around. “Hello, Switchlight. What brings you here?”

Switchlight approached Prowl and smiled. “I’m here to drop off the end-of-orn reports for Cablejumper’s SIC to review in the morning.”

“Do you normally do that?”

“It’s a rotating duty. How are you?”

Prowl smiled. “A little tired.” Actually he was mentally a lot tired.

“That sucks you’re still here.”

“It’s not a pleasant experience, that’s for certain. How are you doing?”

“Tired as well, but that’s usual after drills. Your shoulders look tense. Sit down.”

Prowl obliged. Switchlight had him turn around and hold the soldier’s report. Then he felt Switchlight’s hands on his shoulders. The unexpected touch almost made Prowl jumped but he managed to recover before it became a flinch. Was this what friends did or was it flirting? No one had touched him like this until after they started dating Prowl.

Switchlight’s fingers were thick. “Loosen your armor.”

Prowl fanned out his armor, allowing Switchlight’s warrior-thick fingers to reach his cables. “What’s got you working so late?” he asked as he worked Prowl’s muscle cables.

The tactician was distracted enough he almost missed the question. “I’m working on getting a plan up to an 80% success rate.”

“How do you know what the success rate is?”

“By analyzing historical data.” Prowl started to go into detail about how to extrapolate a success rate based on historical data, similar or not.

A quarter of a joor later Switchlight laughed and let go of Prowl’s shoulders. “I think half of you relaxed just telling me how you work. If work is really that relaxing then how’d you get so tense?”

“Actual work isn’t relaxing, but I find the schooling behind tactical skills to be exciting,” Prowl replied embarrassedly, hoping he didn’t sound too much like a school mechling.

“That’s good. I find drills more exciting than one might expect.”

“How is that so?”

Switchlight sat down in a neighboring chair and the two talked about what fascinated Switchlight until Prowl’s visitor cursed. “I’ve missed curfew. Looks like I’ll be getting washrack cleaning duty. Oh well, it was worth it to talk to you.”

Prowl smiled. “I’m glad it was worth it, although I’m sorry there’s a price to be paid for this impromptu conversation.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Will you turn in that report for me?”

“Of course. See you soon?”

“I’ll come get you later this deca-orn and we can have energon together.”

Prowl couldn’t stop smiling. “That sounds lovely.”


	4. Prowl, Beginnings (Chapter 3)

It took Prowl until two joors after his expected recharge to finally complete bringing the success rate up to 80%. He considered recharge versus staying up to work on the next tactical assignment. He decided he’d get started on it and have a half-cycle of recharge. It was a daunting decision that he’d never made before now.

He worked hard to complete what he could on the next assignment, at the end calculating a mere 38% chance of success. He could double it before lunch tomorrow, so he decided to go to recharge.

The next orn a tired Prowl worked on continuing the assignment to get it up to 80% when he was surprised by Switchlight. “Come on,” Swithlight encouraged, “I got out early so call it break time and let’s go.”

Prowl allowed himself to be pulled by the hand. “Alright, but not a long break time. Okay?”

“Sure, Kup is a real hard aft when it comes to being on time.”

The mess hall was noisier than Prowl was typically accustomed to experiencing. “Is this what it’s like for you?” he said with a raised voice.

“Yeah, normally. You want to drink outside, under an overhang?”

No he didn’t, except he would if it was the only way to not have to yell. “Alright.” Luckily he always had his rain gear on for any splattering that might spray back on him, as did everyone else.

What was even more fortunate was how light it rained. His gear wasn’t needed, although he wouldn’t be removing it. “How’s drills?”

“The same as usual. Kup works us hard in whatever drill he feels like doing that orn, and sometimes he invents new ways to torture – I mean train – us.” They laughed at the slip, Prowl’s laughter softer. “You looked busy when I came over,” Switchlight commented when he stopped laughing.

“Yes, I have a plan that I just achieved an 80% success rate. It takes a while to achieve that.”

“I bet Cablejumper appreciates that.”

“Not really,” Prowl ex-vented. “His threshold is 65% for normal operations. I don’t know how he can live with those odds.” Prowl added the last part as a whisper.

“It’s the life here, to accept losses as quickly as we accept transfers. What’s the plan you were working on?”

Prowl talked about it for a breem and halted when the rain increased. Switchlight grabbed Prowl around the shoulders. “Careful, you’re near a drip. You should sit closer to me.”

“Thank you.” Prowl fought off a blush. This had to be flirting.

“Never a problem.” Switchlight’s arm didn’t leave. “So you were saying it had to do with maintaining a feint attack?”

Prowl returned to talking about his planning while doing everything he could to not blush. He stopped only when Switchlight ex-vented in a sigh. “It’s time for me to go. I’ll see you maybe next orn?”

“I hope so.”

For the next two orns Prowl and Switchlight had energon together. On the first orn of the two he was introduced to Switchlight’s soldier friends, Sonic Boost and “Razzle.” The mech nicknamed Razzle had a glittery orange-pink paint job that defied soldier expectations. Sonic was a plain red and a grounder frame, as opposed to Razzle’s flight frame.

"So this is the famous Prowl," Razzle said as he sat down on Prowl's side, opposite of Switchlight.

"Famous?" Prowl echoed. He looked questioningly at Switchlight.

Switchlight laughed embarrassedly. "I guess I talk about you too much. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not." Shyly Prowl added, "It's nice to be talked about by you."

Switchlight's grin boomed. "Then expect me to keep talking about you."

"Ugh," Sonic Boost moaned. "There goes any conversation I care about." Switchlight playfully kicked Sonic Boost in the leg. "Hey, now. I tell it how I see it. Like right now I see too much of a gap between you and Prowl, if you talking about him gives anything away."

Switchlight laughed and scooted until his leg was touching Prowl's. "Happy?"

"I'm indifferent."

Switchlight turned to Prowl. "You happy?"

Prowl, still speaking in a shy tone, said, "Yes."

Switchlight threw his arm around Prowl's shoulders. "Still happy?"

"I think I am."

"Good."

Razzle shuttered his optics. "Wow, I think I'm jealous of how good of ' _friends'_ you are." He winked at Sonic Boost.

Sonic Boost came to their defense. "Don't hate."

"If I hated I wouldn't be sitting this close to them. You know what we should do? Play basketball."

"I'm game," agreed Sonic Boost.

Switchlight ex-vented in a sigh. "I'm in, if Prowl's in."

"I'll play if you're willing to accept that I'm not a very good player."

"I don't mind. If you really aren't that good, we can have private lessons."

On the second orn Switchlight asked Prowl during their break if they could practice basketball after their shifts. Prowl nearly declined so he could work, but the words that came out of his mouth were, "That sounds like a good idea."

"Good. Do you think we can walk inside the base a little before we go back to our assignments? I like talking to you."

"I enjoy talking to you too." They talked right up until they wondered upon a quiet area, void of any sounds of nearby mechs.

Switchlight brushed up against Prowl's shoulder, putting his arm around Prowl's shoulders again and using his hand to ghost over Prowl's other shoulder. "So... we're alone, with no one nearby."

"Y-yes," Prowl stuttered.

Switchlight gave him a feather-light kiss on the cheek. "You can be so adorable. Do you want to continue walking?"

"No." At least this time he didn't stutter. Prowl returned the kiss, just as light.

Switchlight caught Prowl's chin in a light grip. "Can I kiss you on the lips?"

"Yes," Prowl whispered.

Switchlight kissed him slowly. Prowl's spark jumped. This was his first kiss since Praxus fell, since he had lost his partner. He thought he'd feel guilty but instead it felt right. When Switchlight started pulling back Prowl chased him, kissing him slightly harder.

They pulled apart when they heard a far off voice. Switchlight smiled. "Maybe after basketball we could spend some time in your quarters? My roommate never leaves."

"I'll make mine leave."

Prowl felt guilty when he left his shift on-time, having barely made his first assignment of the orn pass 80% and not staying late for the second assignment. How could he cancel on Switchlight?

Playing basketball proved to be more of a flirting game than a sport. Switchlight stole the ball at one point by tickling Prowl on a doorwing. Another time Switchlight stopped suddenly and Prowl tripped over him, both of them tumbling to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" Switchlight asked.

"Only my hand." Prowl raised the hand to look at it for any signs of damage. There were none but Switchlight lifted his helm and gave it a kiss.

"All better?"

"Quite." Prowl pulled up Switchlight and the mech rolled up and gave Prowl a surprise hug. Another kiss followed, this time on Prowl's nose. They ended the game and took the evening to Prowl's empty quarters, where they kissed again.

The next orn Prowl worked as hard as he could, starting earlier than normal. He expected to meet Switchlight again but Perceptor invited him to energon and Prowl couldn’t refuse making another friend. Switchlight understood and encouraged Prowl to share his breaks with as many friends he could make. There was always the time after their shifts, even if Prowl worked late.

His lunch with Perceptor was quieter since the soldiers were back at training. Prowl asked, “How is it working for Wheeljack?”

“Hmm… let’s call it exciting.”

Prowl offered a knowing smile. “I’m not surprised, judging by his office.”

“Yes, well you see…” Perceptor went on about working for Wheeljack, an inventor that encouraged all kinds of science. The red scientist was more of a pacifist than a weapon maker, and Wheeljack seemed to understand that.

“Why did you join the war, then?” Prowl asked.

“I couldn’t very well sit by and let the Decepticons continue on destroying parts of Cybertron. Protests didn’t seem to help after the fall of Praxus. Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be bringing that up.” Perceptor apologized.

“No, it’s okay…” Prowl lingered on the word “okay.” It wasn’t the first time it came up since he joined the Autobots. “What’s the best assignment you’ve had so far?”

On the fourth orn since Switchlight's massage Prowl almost refused Switchlight. He was falling behind due to his persistence to get every mission’s chances up to 80%, even though he was recharging a half-cycle on the orns he didn't spend the evening with Switchlight. That orn he received a call from his creators that he missed. They left a message that they’d try again the next night.

The following orn Prowl finally had to refuse Switchlight, knowing he could only take a quick break for energon. He was now two assignments behind and he needed to catch up. The Decepticons would likely attack in a deca-orn, and if he wasn’t careful the flanks might be left defenseless. There was the problem that the Decepticons out here were smart enough to learn the Autobots’ moves, so plans were continually changing.

Prowl cut work short only to make it for his creators’ call. He’d have to get up early again to work on it. Prowl jogged his way to his quarters, barely making it in time to catch their call.

Sideswipe spoke first, his voice filled with concern. “Prowl, why do you look so tired?”

Prowl didn’t realize his weariness was showing. No one had said anything. “I’ve been working late,” he admitted, omitting how late.

“We shouldn’t keep you. You should go to recharge early tonight.”

“It’s alright. We can chat for a little bit.”

Sunstreaker furrowed his optic ridges. “Only for a little bit. Why are you up late?”

“It’s been hard to keep up with demand and meet my personal goal of 80%.”

“Are they at least satisfied with the 80%?”

Prowl pressed his lips. “Cablejumper is not terribly pleased.”

Sideswipe snorted. “I’m sure the soldiers are pleased. I’m biased, but I’d rather you make sure the soldiers are safe than give a turborat’s aft about whether or not some office dweller is pleased with some paperwork.”

“He says that I need to sacrifice my goal to make sure we’ve got all our plans covered to increase the soldiers’ overall survival. See the bigger picture.”

“It’s his job to see the bigger picture, and your job to make sure your pieces fit.”

Prowl thought about arguing, but he didn’t completely disagree with Sideswipe. Of course Sideswipe didn’t realize how much Prowl needed to know the bigger picture to see how he fit, but then that’s a commanding officer’s job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I gave them human sports. I wasn’t feeling up to inventing a game that was easy on the reader.


	5. Chapter 5: Twins, Beginnings (Chapter 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins' storyline starts off slower than Prowl’s and will initially have less chapters, but it does pick up pace and will be longer.

"How do you think Bob's doing?" Sideswipe asked as they got comfortable in their shared quarters. "He better be fine with our friends. Do you think one orn they'll let me bring him here? He'd probably be a good tracker."

"You can try pitching that to the higher ups." Sideswipe shrugged. "Think we should try calling Prowl?"

"How about we not smother him?"

"Why?"

Sunstreaker blew off his brother and pulled out his polishing rag. Sideswipe played with his handheld game, one of the few possessions he was allowed. He had the game, a picture of his family, and few tools of his pranking trade. They looked innocent to any inspector. He’d had many inspectors come and try to pin his pranks on him, but none had succeeded so far.

They were in recharge when they were pulled out by the battle alarm. Sunstreaker moaned and pounded his berth. “Again? We’ve been here almost two mega-orns and this is our tenth battle. First night time one.”

“Nuh… life here sucks,” Sideswipe groggily agreed. “I want to go back to selling things to Autobots and not being one.”

“Let’s go.” Sunstreaker got off the berth and dragged Sideswipe out of his berth. “Never know how close the Decepticons got. Could be right at our door.”

“Then the alarm sucks.”

They ran out, Sideswipe picking up speed to catch up with Sunstreaker. The battle wasn’t too far off, but at least it wasn’t close. They sprinted to their posts, already under heavy combat. Decepticons of all different sizes had made it past the frontlines, who were still there but spread out because of the late alarm.

Sideswipe was better at a blaster than Sunstreaker, but they were on par when it came to mech-on-mech fighting. The red twin was also better at dodging blaster fighter, like he was dodging inquisitions.

Sunstreaker was trying his best to not get hit by blaster fire, but it was dark and the lights from the blasters were blinding. A big green Decepticon came swinging for him and Sunstreaker forgot what he was really dodging. Pain tore through his side, and not from a punch. He looked down, confused at what was hurting him, finding a giant smoking hole in his side. “Huh,” was all Sunstreaker said before he collapsed.

Sideswipe missed Sunstreaker’s fall, preoccupied with his own fights. The skirmish was over as fast as it began, and Sideswipe wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. They may have gotten what they want, whatever kept the Decepticons coming back.

Sideswipe looked around once he noticed the weird buzz from their bond. “Sunny? Suuuunnny.” He looked around until he found a familiar yellow laying down face first, a pool of energon bleeding out his side. “No!” Sideswipe dropped down by Sunstreaker’s side, pulling out a huge bandage roll from his oversized subspace pockets. He pushed bandages against the lines that were bleeding.

A medic came over. “Move,” he barked. Sideswiped jumped away. The medic patched Sunstreaker enough to carry him off the battlefield. Sideswipe followed, practically stepping on the medic’s heels.

The trio arrived at Medical and a nurse stopped Sideswipe. “Patients only.”

“That’s my brother!”

“I’m sorry but patients only. Don’t make me call security.”

Sideswipe snarled but backed off. He walked loudly back to their quarters. Inside he stomped around the room, wanting to throw stuff. This was their first serious injury and there was nothing he could do. How could he wait patiently for news on Sunny’s status? Or worse, feel him fading.

Sideswipe needed to blow off steam. There was only one way that would work good enough for him, a prank. He snatched up his tools and snuck to the washracks. Sideswipe filled soft rubber balloons with the spraying solvent. It would be more harmless than he wanted but it would have to do. He subspaced them and disappeared to make it to the officers’ quarters. Let Sandstorm feel Sideswipe’s wrath for moving them into a more hostile area.

He found the nametag by Sandstorm’s quarters. Sideswipe wasn’t much of a hacker but rooms didn’t have the highest security and Jazz had taught him a couple of tricks. He made it into the room before anyone came down the hallway. The officers were probably busy debriefing.

Hanging the balloons up and stringing them so they’d break upon Sandstorm’s entrance took a little bit of work, especially since Sideswipe didn’t want the balloons to fall on him when he exited. When he was done he made his way to the Rec Room to play some console games.

About one joor later Sandstorm comm’ed him, sounding very angry. ::Sideswipe, report to my quarters now.::

::Where’s that?::

::I’m sure you know where.::

::I swear I don’t.::

Sandstorm growled. ::Officers’ quarters, fifth one on the left. Hurry up.::

Sideswipe made it to Sandstorm’s office, the irate mech standing outside his door. “Do you think this is funny?” he snapped.

“What happened?”

“You know exactly what happened. I can’t prove that this was you, but I know it is. Our troubles didn’t start until you showed up.”

“Me? I was in the Rec Room with ten others.”

“Don’t sass me!” Sandstorm hissed. “I’m done tolerating your pranks because you’re good enough soldiers. When your brother is out of Medical and safe for travel I’m sending you to another base. One with harder ground battles.”

Sideswipe’s mouth dropped. “You can’t do that. You have nothing to justify the move.”

“I’ll figure out something. Dismissed.”

\---

Sunstreaker stayed in Medical after he was fully put back together, the doctors planning to hold him overnight to make sure nothing sprang a leak. Sideswipe was finally allowed to visit him. He felt miserable and his face showed it.

“What’s wrong?” Sunstreaker asked.

“We’re being moved to another base,” Sideswipe said glumly.

“Why?”

“Sandstorm is blaming me for a prank and he says he’s going to send us packing.”

~Why’d you do it?~ Sunstreaker asked over the bond so no one could hear Sideswipe confessing his guilt.

~I needed to blow off steam for a nurse kicking me out while you were treated. This is your first major injury. I couldn’t standby and wait to hear something.~

Sunstreaker pulled Sideswipe down into a hug. “We’ll be okay at our new base.”

“He says that it’ll be a harder base than this.” Sideswipe made a soft sob noise. “I can’t go to a base where there’s more than ten battles every two mega-orns.”

“Shh, we’ll be okay.” Sunstreaker didn’t feel okay but he wasn’t about to let his feelings broadcast across the bond and make his brother feel worse. “When do we leave?”

“When you walk out of here.”

“Then I guess I better not walk to fast.”


End file.
